I know a woman who has a dream.
Each time we speak she tells me about her dream. Then she says she just needs to get her house clean and organized before she can begin.
She lives alone (not even a pet) and is financially independent, so she doesn’t work. And for the twenty years I've known her, she’s been trying to get that house clean and organized so she can begin to work toward her dream. In that same twenty years I've watched her do many positive things: organize numerous successful fund raisers for non-profits, spent endless hours helping people who were down on their luck, cheerfully pay uncountable visits to the sick, elderly, lonely and troubled. She's been a good friend to many and a source of inspiration to many, many more. Hers hasn’t been a wasted life. But she's never pursued her dream.
She’s desperately ill now. Whether she'll survive or not is up in the air. I think her life has been a good and useful one, but when I spoke with her a few days ago she once again shared her dream with me and her regret that she never reached out for it. Then she paused, smiled, and told me she was going to try for her dream despite her illness. But first she needed to get her house cleaned and organized.
Something that's helping me write today: The joy and relief that comes from being a FlyBaby and the memory of this sentiment from my friend Joan, "I'm guessing when I reach those pearly gates Saint Peter isn't going to care how clean my house was, but he may be impressed with the fact I always kept the bird feeder in my backyard full."
Each time we speak she tells me about her dream. Then she says she just needs to get her house clean and organized before she can begin.
She lives alone (not even a pet) and is financially independent, so she doesn’t work. And for the twenty years I've known her, she’s been trying to get that house clean and organized so she can begin to work toward her dream. In that same twenty years I've watched her do many positive things: organize numerous successful fund raisers for non-profits, spent endless hours helping people who were down on their luck, cheerfully pay uncountable visits to the sick, elderly, lonely and troubled. She's been a good friend to many and a source of inspiration to many, many more. Hers hasn’t been a wasted life. But she's never pursued her dream.
She’s desperately ill now. Whether she'll survive or not is up in the air. I think her life has been a good and useful one, but when I spoke with her a few days ago she once again shared her dream with me and her regret that she never reached out for it. Then she paused, smiled, and told me she was going to try for her dream despite her illness. But first she needed to get her house cleaned and organized.
Something that's helping me write today: The joy and relief that comes from being a FlyBaby and the memory of this sentiment from my friend Joan, "I'm guessing when I reach those pearly gates Saint Peter isn't going to care how clean my house was, but he may be impressed with the fact I always kept the bird feeder in my backyard full."
